Perfect Little Monster
by Lostinthemindscape
Summary: Lucinda Quinzel has had a good life. She's brilliant, with a tech savvy mind to boot. Living with her Aunt Marilyn has provided her with great privilege, but as she gets older it gets harder to ignore the growing similarities between her and the criminal clown couple that keeps making headline news.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi lovelies! I've had this idea for a while, actually ever since I read the part where Harley has a daughter named Lucy, so here is chapter one, tell me what you think! Happy reading!**

 **~Luna**

Chapter 1

Wiring is difficult business. Wiring is even more difficult when you've got a five minute time constraint to do a twenty minute job. I could get it done. Maybe. Most likely.

"Lucy!" I heard my aunt call and I hurried to attach the red wire. Never mind that if it was attached in the wrong place, it could potentially blow up in my face. But those were minor details.

The alarm I had set up in the hallway would give me at best six seconds to hide everything. The lock would give me an extra two, provided Aunt Marilyn forgot which way to turn the key, which I hoped she did. I let her keep the key, to let her believe that she had some control over me. But still, I had to pick between hiding my device and hiding the C4. I could make a liable excuse for both, but answering the question on how I got the C4 would be something I wasn't in the mood for.

My phone binged as if I had gotten a text, but it was the programmed alarm. Quickly I threw all of screwdrivers and pliers into my purple toolbox, before taking the package of C4 and sliding it into the false bottom of my desk drawer. I stood up as I heard the my door click. Aunt Marilyn walked through the door and I closed my drawer shut with my finger tips. Five seconds. She had gotten better at this. I made a mental reminder to place the trip wire farther up the hallway tonight.

"Hello Aunt Marilyn," I greeted as sweetly as possible.

"Lucy, honey," she sighed, setting a basket of freshly washed clothes on my bed. "I wish you wouldn't do that. I'm your aunt, not a stranger. You left your clothes in the dryer so I folded them."

My eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second. Had she found it? I quickly snapped back into being cheerful. "Thank you, Aunt Marilyn."

She just laughed. "You're so funny sometimes, Lucy. It's like you're permanently in Stepford daughter mode."

My hands clenched behind my back and I had to keep the smile on my face. No one laughed at me, being a family member didn't make you exempt. Aunt Marilyn would eventually get what was coming to her. It might take a while, but eventually she would be sorry that she ever laughed at me.

"Well dinner's almost ready and your uncle is having very important people from, so behave," she chided.

Aunt Marilyn was quite possibly the only person I couldn't fool with my deceptions. Everything about me was intended to throw people off. Platinum blonde hair scraped back into pigtails made me look about two years younger, giant hazel eyes that made people want to protect me, being 5'2 made everything I did adorable anyways. Not to mention the fact that I was a ballerina and a gymnast, which were both considered non-violent sports. Not counting the fact that I could possibly crush a man's head between my thighs.

"Of course," I replied, trying to feel around for my device.

She frowned when she looked at my desk. "And no more robots."

She walked out the door and I sighed in relief. I make a robot that blows up without being detonated one time and suddenly everything is a potential weapon. I made my cousin one for Christmas, no C4 at all. But that was the only non-explosive one. But this one wasn't a robot, it was an RC car my actual mother had gotten me for my fifth birthday, complete with a tutu around the middle. I didn't have much to say about the tutu, besides the fact that I was a weird kid.

Sighing, I placed the car in a plastic container with all of my other devices, each detonator color coded with its explosive. After the box was stowed safely away, I grabbed my phone and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. I didn't bother to look at our guests until after I poured myself a glass of orange juice. When I did, I practically choked on my drink. Why the hell was Bruce Wayne in our kitchen?


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hi lovelies! Please enjoy this chapter, I love writing from both Lucy's and Harley's POV, it's so fun! Thanks to Amelia-bella1 for following, favoriting, and reviewing and to Kira Sema for favoriting! Tell me what'cha think, and Happy Reading!**

 **~Luna**

Chapter 2

"So you must be this brilliant daughter I keep hearing about," Bruce Wayne smiled, crossing the kitchen to shake my hand. I took it, because there was no other option.

"Niece and yes," I corrected, dropping his hand to go put my orange juice on the table.

Aunt Marilyn was all fake smiles, trying to be the perfect homemaker. Her glances at me screamed bloody murder, a warning to behave. Those I took seriously, as Aunt Marilyn got scary when she was angry. She started stabbing things, the couch, the chair, the fridge. Usually I locked her in the garage until Uncle George came home. But she would also threaten to not let me see my mother on the days she visited and that was possibly the worst.

Uncle George initiated small talk with Mr Wayne until dinner was ready and we all sat down, my ten year old cousin completely in awe. The small talk continued, Mr Wayne eating up Aunt Marilyn's compliments. Dinner passed quickly, My cousin, Jay, and I were washing up the dishes while my aunt and uncle joined Mr Wayne outside.

"Do you think he's gonna give us like a billion dollars?" Jay asked.

I scoffed. "The Waynes don't do that. He's probably making sure that Uncle George isn't telling us company secrets."

Uncle George was what you would call loaded. He was on the board of directors for Wayne Enterprises, which was enough to buy the McMansion that we lived in. Aunt Marilyn wasn't stupid, for all her bleached blonde glory. She saw an opportunity to get out of the slums of Gotham and took it. She had her perfect life with her perfect grade school child. The only thing marring it was me, but I suppose she was hailed as a hero by the other members of the PTA for taking in her sister's troubled daughter. I didn't complain much about the excess money, I had the password to the bank account and just skimmed off the top every time I needed something for my latest project.

Once the washing up was done, I flopped down onto the couch in the living room and turned on the news. This specific channel seemed to be playing whatever the crime of Gotham was doing 24/7 and I found their schemes interesting. Jay came over later, playing with the robot I made him. It wasn't my best workmanship, but I was still proud of it.

Aunt Marilyn walked into the room, looking giddy, before glancing at the TV and frowned. The current story was about how Scarecrow, formerly Dr Jonathan Crane, had made another serum in addition to the fear toxin. This one was hailed as an immortality serum, designed to regress the user back to their teen years. Apparently it had worked a little too well on one of the Robins, regressing him back to infantry. I laughed at this, which caused Aunt Marilyn to have a shocked expression.

She picked up the remote. "Enough of that! Your father-"

"Uncle-" I corrected.

"It doesn't matter. He just got a promotion and I will not have any of this negativity in my household." She motioned to change the channel, but I stopped her as another story came on.

"Turn it up," I ordered, my eyes still glued to the screen. My aunt complied.

"In tonight's breaking news," the newscaster had to fight to keep his voice steady. "The Joker and several accomplices have robbed the First National Bank again. The tellers on duty have all been hit by Joker Venom, and are being rushed to the hospital as we speak. Now to Jana, who is on the scene."

The shot switched to who I assumed to be Jana, a very short woman looking incredibly business like despite the fact that the bank was burning behind her. I giggled at this.

"Thank you Bradley. As you can see, the First National Bank is up in flames, and neither the Joker nor his accomplices have exited the building yet, but Gotham PD is set up- oh my god! Are you getting this?!"

The camera panned to the front door, where the Joker and his accomplice, the crazy chick with the black and red color scheme, were standing outside the door of the bank, using doped up tellers as human shields. Goons poured out after them, machine guns at the ready. Jana and the nameless camera man moved closer, to right behind the police barrier. The camera zoomed in on the insane clown couple, where the Joker was laughing wildly. He was older than I expected him to be, nearly Uncle George's age who was about fifty.

"Puddin! Look there's cameras! Say cheese!" The accomplice shouted, holding up a gun to the camera man. She fired, and the entire screen went to static.

Aunt Marilyn huffed. "You see, Lucinda? This is why I wanted to change the channel. Nothing good comes from those two."

I ignored her pointed stare at me. "She sounded like Mama..." I muttered, trying to get the thought around my head.

"Oh hush," my aunt chided, turnoff off the TV. "Lots of people have that accent, it's from a neighborhood in the slums."

"Where you and Mama grew up?" I asked.

Aunt Marilyn looked shocked before spluttering an excuse, something about how it was a big neighborhood. I just shook my head. I knew Aunt Marilyn was from the same place, you could hear her accent come out when she was angry or frustrated. Or in one of her stab-happy moods.

I glanced back at the now blank TV screen. That woman was a mystery to me. She not only sounded like my mother, her eyes looked the exact same. That very specific shade of baby blue that I was told that only our family had, even though my own eyes were hazel. I needed to find out this woman's name.

•••

Battered and bruised from the night's job, Harley stumbled into the safe house, Bud and Lou on her heels. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but had things to do. Lucy's birthday was tomorrow and so was Harley's semi-annual visit. The woman pulled her bows out of her hair and tossed them into an open suitcase, before stepping out of her dress which was chucked into the suitcase as well. Her clothes for the next few days were already in there and so were most of the necessities.

Harley set about her usual tasks, making sure to give Bud and Lou an extra steak in case her Puddin forgot to feed them. He probably would. After her greasepaint was completely wiped off her face and she had normal people clothes on, she left the safe house with her suitcase, waving to the goons set up outside the front door.

"Miss Quinn, the Boss gave us orders-" one of them stated. Harley was sure he kept talking, but she didn't register another word.

Harley gave him a once over. A street thug, new by the way he couldn't quite get a comfortable grip on the machine gun. Practically half of the gang was like that, ever since B-man decided to pay them a little visit last week. Seventy men gone in a single night. Bats may have morals against killing, but he was sure okay with giving injuries that would kill them later.

"I'm off to Red's, boys!" She shouted, giving a little finger wave as she walked down the street.

Her baby was going to turn seventeen tomorrow. And Harley had decided that she needed a baby of her own. Harley patted the fat wad of cash in her pocket. It was going to be odd, actually buying something all legitimate and whatnot. But her baby was completely worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Chapter three is here! Mama Harley is positively my favorite thing in the entire world and so is awkward yet twisted Lucy. We won't see much of that in this or the next chapter, but I assure you full on crazy Lucy is coming. And to all of you wondering, C4 is basically an explosive clay, stable until it reaches extreme heat or is detonated through a shock wave. As always, tell me what you think and if I can do anything to make this better! Thanks to Koriandr1 for reviewing, favoriting, and following! Happy reading!**

 **~Luna**

Chapter 3

Harley walked up to the front door of her sister's house. The place was huge, bigger than her apartment building. And of course it was lavishly decorated, with a well manicured lawn and peppy little flower boxes that made Harley want to scream. Her sister had gotten everything she had wanted, her perfect house and her rich husband. While Harley never did want to be financially dependent on a man, she had to agree that the sentiment of getting out of the slums was something the sisters shared. And something only Marilyn had achieved.

The woman checked to make sure the car windows were open before tugging at a lock of her hair. Red had helped her dye her hair back to blonde, and had also helped her get Lucy's present. Red was the only other person in Gotham that knew about Lucy's parentage, although Selina might have guessed. Harley's hair was nearly the exact same color it was when she had been in medical school, scraped back into a bun. She was reminded of her Arkham days, before she was an inmate there. Of course, Harley had to look somewhat like a mom. But she hoped her sleeveless button-down and black skinny jeans hid all of her tattoos, which she knew were on her file at Gotham PD.

Taking a deep breath, Harley knocked on the giant double doors, waiting for her sister to open the door so she could see her baby again.

•••

My alarm blared, lights flashing as a guitar riff filled the room. Smacking my lips, I fumbled for my phone to turn the damn thing off. I finally unlocked it, plunging the room back into darkness and silence.

As I crossed to open my blackout curtains, I couldn't remember why I had set my alarm for so early. Picking out clothes for the day didn't result in any new memories. School didn't end for another three months, and it was Thursday so I couldn't go catch an early bird movie at the theaters. Oh. It was my birthday. But more importantly, it was Visitation Day.

I hurriedly banded my hair into two low ponytails, brushing out the ends. I threw on a bright purple shirt and then a pair of overalls that were really just shorts with a tiny bib. Another minute was required to slip on my Converse, but I hardly noticed. Light makeup was needed, but it was nothing special, just the winged eyeliner I had perfected last week.

I didn't see the need to wear all black everyday. Bright colors were one of my most favorite things, especially purple and red. I was already an outcast at school due to the several fistfights, the pipe bomb they couldn't incriminate me for because they had no evidence, and the fact that I believed most of my peers to be subpar in both maturity and interesting subjects to talk about. Not to mention the fact that their humor was severely lacking, but I have been told my sense of humor was strange. The way I saw it, I was a venomous human being, the bright colors warning others to stay away lest I bite you.

I ran out my door and down the stairs, too excited to even think about breakfast. The stairs were a long way to go down, but I hardly noticed. Time was doing a strange thing where it sped up and then slowed down. Maybe I should he that checked out. I had to bite back a laugh, the last time I had seen a shrink that was my mother ended in me biting the shrink.

"Harleen, you can't give that to her, yours are all over the news. She'll find out," my aunt chided. I stopped at the edge of the stairs, listening in on the conversation.

"You always were so dumb. Bud and Lou are not, it's just me and Mr J," I heard my mother sigh, and excitement swelled within me. I didn't know any Mr J, maybe it was my mother's pet name for my father? "She'll be fine."

"Harleen, she's gotten worse," my aunt whispered. "There was a pipe bomb last year at school..."

I balled my fists. My aunt had to go and open her big mouth again. She'd pay for it eventually, not right now though. What she conveniently forgot to mention is that the pipe bomb was all her fault. She had taken away visiting rights all last year because I refused to see a shrink. I had told her that the only shrink I would see of my mother, but Aunt Marilyn refused. So I blew up the girl's bathroom at school. No one got hurt, but it did close down school for a week. Everyone was pretty happy about that.

"There's no evidence that it was her," Mama sighed again. "She simply projectin' her anger for you onto the bathroom. Its not that weird."

After I could take no more of them talking about me, I ran into the kitchen, throwing my arms around my mother. She tensed for a second, before placing her arms around by back, squeezing her hard. Mama was only about three inches taller than me, but I felt like I was four years old again. She always made me feel as if I was small again, as if her entire world revolved around me. And for those twenty four hours of Visitation Day, I guessed it did.

"Hi baby," she whispered, going to pat my hair.

I pulled away, a giant smile on my face. "How long are you back in Gotham?"

Mama was doing a twenty year Doctors Without Borders stint in Africa, or so she told me. I knew that wasn't the entire truth, but every time I asked about it she'd get sad. I didn't want to be the cause of my mother's sadness, so I left the subject alone. She had her secrets and I had mine.

"Just today," she said and I nodded.

"And is Daddy here?" I asked.

Mama shared a look with Aunt Marilyn before saying, "He couldn't come, baby. He's got very important work to do."

"For my eighteenth, right?"

"Sure, baby."

I nodded again, reaching into a cupboard to get myself some cereal. Mama told me that Daddy was a business associate for some very influential people that didn't even know I was alive. I knew she meant the mob. She still would not tell me which mob though. I figured the Italians, they're pretty nasty and would be the exact kind of people to act like that.

"So what are you planning on doing today?" Aunt Marilyn piped up, breaking the silence.

"Shoppin', sightseein', maybe go to the docks. There's this new arcade that just opened up," Mama rambled off, ticking off the things in her fingers.

I sat down with my bowl of cereal. I could only stand Aunt Marilyn around specific people. Mama and Jay being the sole inhabitants of that category. I tried to down it as fast as possible, eager to start the day. I had school, and that took up eight hours of the day. My aunt imposed curfew was eleven... That only left me seven hours with my mother. Seven short hours that was just not enough.

"You're going to be late for school Lucinda," my aunt chided. "Hurry up and get in the car."

"Oh Mary, don't be such a downer," Mama pouted, making me giggle. "It's her seventeenth, she's taking the day off. Think of it as a mental health day."

I silently cheered, but set my bowl in the sink. "May I, Aunt Marilyn?"

The woman just sighed in defeat to which Mama grabbed me by the arm and was pulling me out the door. "Kaybyethanksloveya!" She shouted.

We stepped into the clean air, free of any disapproving aunts or rules to be seen. I'm not afraid to say I gawked at Mama's car. It was a two door electric, painted light green with a black stripe going down the sides. I didn't know she had this kind of money.

The car beeped and both doors opened batwing style. I giggled. Of course everything in this city had to do with bats. Why shouldn't my mother have a car with batwing style doors?

I climbed in, expecting leather seats but finding a weird sort of fabric I have never seen before. It felt like leaves, complete with the stitching designed to look like veins. How odd. There was a box on my seat with a big red now and holes poked into the sides. I picked it up gingerly and sat down, placing the box on my lap. And then it moved. I was fascinated by the box, sticking my finger through one of the holes and having it be licked.

"You found your present!" Mama cried happily, only glancing at me for a brief second before driving away from my aunt's McMansion.

Without needing a further word, I lifted the top to find a baby hyena curled up on the bottom of the box, gnawing on one of those industrial strength dog toys. I lifted him- yes I checked- out of the box, kicking it down to my feet. He was all light brown fuzz towards the front, barely old enough to keep his eyes open. His ears were two circles on top of his head and when he opened his mouth I could only see the beginnings of small teeth.

"You like him?" She asked, smiling. "His mama died and so did the rest of his litter. His daddy... Well he's not around."

Like mine, I added silently. But I mentally scolded myself. My father had very important work to do, for all I know he could be trying to bring down the mob. What a relief that would be. There are only two sure fire ways to walk around Gotham without needing a mob's protection: take down that mob or make a big enough name for yourself. The former was so much easier in Gotham, which was full of wannabe criminals dying to make a name for themselves.

I set the hyena puppy in my lap, softly stroking his head. "His name is Felix."

"Perfect," Mama said as she drove off to the piers, one absolute perfect day in store for us.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hi lovelies! For those of you that are waiting on me to update MTL... I'm so sorry I had to write this, who doesn't love mother daughter bonding time? (Also Nibs is being a little buttface) But I hope you all like it, tell me if I can do anything better or just what you think. Thanks to Koriandr1 and Amelia-bella1 for reviewing, to Boo Dickinson for following/favoriting, and to doggy bye for favoriting! Happy reading!**

 **~Luna**

Chapter 4

Visitation Day was possibly's Harley's favorite day of the entire year. Halloween was a close second, but seeing her baby made everything four thousand times better. Seeing her baby laugh was what convinced Harley that she hadn't screwed up most of the time, even if Lucy had her father's sense of humor. Mother and daughter were sitting on a bench, Felix curled up in Lucy's lap while the Harley was pelting birds with bread crumbs from her sandwich. Lucy would let out a laugh every time one would get hit the eye. It scared Harley, Lucy's laugh was so similar to her Puddin's. And apparently the girl had gotten his sense of humor as well.

People were staring. Harley had gotten used to it the second she entered med school. After all, a woman psychologist wasn't very common when she went to school; a beautiful woman psychologist was unheard of. But still, Harley double checked that she had worn a few giant bracelets to cover up the red and black diamond tattoo on her wrist. Lucy was not so receptive to the attention. The girl looked absolutely murderous if anyone came up and asked what kind of dog Felix was, effectively scaring off the passer by and preventing Harley from having to lie. Again, terrifying, just like Mr J.

"Mama? Why did you give me up?" She asked suddenly.

Shit. Shit shit shiiiiiiitttt. Harley had to scramble for an answer, one that could be suitable for Lucy without bringing up her criminal history. "Well, baby. Where I work, it's not the best place to raise a baby. Civil wars breaking out all the time and all that. Your auntie didn't think so either, which is why she has legal rights over you."

Harley didn't mention that according to the government Harleen Francis Quinzel did not exist, hadn't since she burned all of her legal documents.

Lucy just nodded, ripping off a piece of her roast beef for Felix, who gobbled it up greedily.

"He's gonna be a little fatty if you keep feedin' him like that," Harley laughed. "I had the exact same problem with Lou."

Lucy looked up, her furrowed eyebrows making her eyes seem smaller. "Who's Lou?"

"He's my dog," Harley lied. She felt bad about lying to her baby, but it was what had to be done. "I have two, Bud and Lou."

"Not spotted hyenas?" Lucy asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"No, yours is special," Harley stood up off the bench, stretching. "Let's go, you lazy sack of potatoes. There's an arcade with our names on it."

•••

Mama was lying. About her dogs, but I felt where she worked was the only truth. I couldn't blame her though, it wasn't like lying wasn't a normal human past time. I lied to practically everyone. Still I followed her to the arcade, hiding Felix in my tiny backpack. He fell instantly asleep.

I'd never been to an arcade before but from that day, I decided I liked arcades. Mama showed me this trick with the claw game, resulting in a prize every time. I was surprisingly accurate at any game that involved targets, and Mama was both amazing at retro games like Pac man and anything that required whacking.

The newest game at the arcade was a bit strange. The game was called Gotham, and you got to play as Batman or any of the various Robins or Batgirls, fighting virtual crime. The boss level was to defeat the Joker, with lesser known villains as the focus of the other levels. Mama hated it and wouldn't even go near the game. I supposed she didn't like seeing her former patients being beat up like that, even if it was only an arcade game. I knew she worked at Arkham Asylum before I was born, and from the stories Uncle George told me (he was a night guard while going through business school), she was positively brilliant and one of the only humane doctors there. She was an advocate for rehabilitation and actual therapy, instead of electroshock.

At the end of the day, Mama was driving me back to hell, each of us with a giant lollipop from this little candy store on the pier called Marini's Munchies. When we entered, Mama looked like she was in heaven and I have to admit it was pretty spectacular. "Dark" was not in their vocabulary and there were candies of all shapes and sizes, even specially made dog treats, which I bought a bag for Felix. Mama had decided on a rainbow lollipop bigger than her face, and I picked a Batman shaped lollipop. It gave me great joy to see the candy become an unrecognizable lump.

All too soon, we pulled up in front of the my aunt's house. Mama walked me to the front door, arm sling around my shoulders. I had Felix squirming in my arms, anxious to get away from the house. I couldn't agree more with him.

"Did'ya have fun, baby?" She asked, pressing the doorbell.

I nodded, trying to keep my lollipop away from Felix. "It was the most fun I've had in a while."

"You're so proper, Lucy," she laughed, but I was strangely okay with it. "That's good. A lot more people will take you seriously than..."

She trailed off but I knew the end of that sentence: than her. People don't take the accent from the slums kindly. Most people think that they're lesser, simply because they don't pronounce a "g" when speaking. I find that incredibly stupid, but then again, I find most of society's norms and unspoken rules of conduct stupid to begin with.

Aunt Marilyn opened the door, her displeased expression stating it was way past curfew. Mama pressed a kiss to my head with a promise to come visit in another three months, and walked back to her car. She waved before sliding into the driver's seat. I watched the car drive off even after it disappeared from view, only going inside when Aunt Marilyn had enough. As I walked inside, I could see a silhouette of a man rise from a car across the street and for a second I swore he had on a purple coat. That was improbable, however. No one besides the Joker owned a purple coat, even stores had stopped carrying them due to the man. But the probability of the Joker standing in front of my house without destroying anything was astronomical, wasn't it?


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: here we are! More plotty things and Joker! Yaayyy! Props to anyone who can guess what cartoon Harley's watching. Thanks to Koriandr1 and Amelia-bella for reviewing!**

 **~Luna**

Chapter 5

Harley was giddy. She had gotten to see her baby and went over to Red's, telling her best friend all about her day. Red had nodded along while watering some super-super dangerous plant. Harley thought the plant was pretty, up until it tried to bite her. Then it was just plain rude.

But she was home now, sprawled out on the couch. Bud and Lou were vying to lay down on her lap, and some cartoon was on. Harley didn't really understand it, but she had liked the glowing Dorito guy. He kind of reminded her of Mr J, just in a more illuminati triangular form.

The door opened and Harley called out her standard "Hiya Puddin'!"

He didn't answer. Not even the usual grumble when he was angry. Harley had been hoping he would kiss her cheek like he did on better days, but that didn't happen. After pushing Bud and Lou off of her, the blonde stood up and walked to the kitchen, where Mr J was.

"Harleen," he said in his cool voice, making her flinch. He only used Harleen when she had royally screwed up. "Do you want to tell me where you were?"

"I was at Red's," Harley said. "She's got this gorgeous new plant It's so pretty but it's really-"

Harley never got to finish her sentence, as he slammed her up against the wall, hand on her throat. Harley whimpered and her vision was going fuzzy. A low growl from Bud made her feel a tiny flicker of hope that she wouldn't go out without her babies avenging her.

"Now," he grinned. "Do you want to tell me where you really were?"

•••

After one all too perfect day, I had to return to school that Friday. Gotham Charter, for the gifted is what the brochure says. It should be changed to "For those with loaded parents". I only went here because of Uncle George's standing in Wayne Enterprises, most went because their parents had their name on one of the buildings. I hated the place, it was a hellhole full of pathetic human beings. Thankfully this was my last year, as I had skipped the second grade and was now a senior in high school. My classes were mainly all honors courses, my favorites being AP Psychology and AP Chemistry. The former made me feel closer to my mother, while the latter was just fun as the top three students would get a paid internship at Wayne Enterprises, testing the military grade equipment. I was number two in that class, beat out by a student who had transferred the day I was gone.

I carefully strode in to third period AP Psychology, taking my usual seat in the back. Each of the tables in this class seated two people, and I was glad that we had an odd numbered class and I had my own table. Like every other class, I was alone and in the back, exactly the way I preferred it. Until, I saw a ratty school bag slam down on my table.

I looked up at the person, utterly annoyed. Everything about him screamed wannabe rebel from the threadbare black hoodie to the jeans so over worn that the knees were white. He was exactly the kind of boy I would hate. His individual features seemed too big for his face, giving the boy a dorky look. His hair seemed to stick out from his forehead, as if suspended by wires. He also gave off the "stick up his ass vibe" which made me dislike him immediately.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a thin smile masking my rage.

The boy did something inexcusable, he sat down in the chair next to me, at MY desk! "I sit here."

"No you don't. This is my desk," I argued.

"I sit here now, I transferred," he stared curtly, signaling an end to the conversation.

I angrily slammed a pencil case on my desk, having no other way to vent my frustrations. The bell rang and class had started, but I couldn't care less. We were supposed to be taking notes on one of Freud's theories but I was laying out another blueprint for my next device. This time I was thinking about refitting Jay's RC helicopter with something more explosive in nature. I giggled at the thought of detonating the helicopter, taking out a sizable amount of Aunt Marilyn's flower beds and maybe her with it.

"Lucinda Quinzel! Do pay attention!" The teacher shouted from the front of the room, slamming a ruler down on her desk.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to take notes, trying to figure out where to put the explosives in the helicopter. My seat partner stared at me.

"Quinzel? As in Dr Harleen Quinzel?" He whispered.

"She's my mother, but that none of your business now is it?" I stuck out my tongue at him. It was a juvenile gesture, I understand. But I felt it was also the only way to get this boy off of my back.

He stared directly into my eyes, a motion I returned. Never let someone think you're intimidated, especially some snot nosed, probably old money boy. I noticed something strange. The edges of his irises seemed to be jagged, almost bleeding out into the sclera. There was no darker ring of color around the edges to act as a border. Strange. I'd never heard of any drug that could do that, not even Joker Venom or fear toxin. Or even Viper, the unstable steroid that was a precursor to Venom.

"Jonathan and Lucinda! Pay attention or you will receive detention!" The teacher shrieked and I vaguely wondered how funny it would be if she discovered a timed bomb in her desk.

The boy have a nod in greeting. "Jonathan Crane."

I raised an eyebrow. "You are not Jonathan Crane."

"And how would you know that?" He smirked, immediately making me want to slap it off his face.

"Jonathan Crane is forty something years old," I remarked, going back to my doodles. "And currently incarcerated in Arkham Asylum."

He chuckled, his laugh one I actually liked the sound of. No, I chastised myself. This boy is the enemy.

"Have you ever heard of the immortality serum?" He said under his breath, not even finishing his question before the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

He left without a word, the first one out the door. I'm ashamed to say I sat there, nearly dumbfounded for the first time in my life. Shaking my head, I packed up and followed this "Jonathan Crane" out into the hallway. Lunch was starting but I couldn't care less. This boy was cryptic, but damn it I was interested. I found him in the empty chemistry classroom, mixing two vials into each other instead of eating lunch. Chemistry was my next period, so I figured that staying here wouldn't do me any harm.

"What'cha doin'?" I asked in my best Mama impression, knowing it would annoy him.

He sighed, but didn't look at me. "Am I just a special case? Or do you pick someone to annoy, a new one each day?"

"Nope," I replied, pulling out my sandwich. "You are just an easy target." I punctuated my point with pretending to shoot him with a finger gun.

We sat in silence then. I kept eating my sandwich. There was only about twenty minutes of lunch left. I couldn't foresee him making anything worthwhile or even useful with the time constraints.

"So if you really are Jonathan Crane," I began. "Where would you- hypothetically, of course- live?"

"1007 Mountain Drive," he still refused to look at me.

"Now I know you're lying," I stated, flicking out a Swiss Army knife and playing with the blade. Out, in, click. Out, in, click. "I think it's rude to lie to someone you just met."

He snorted, writing something down in his notebook. "How do you know I'm lying? I could just have a strange address."

"Because that's the address of Bruce Wayne," I laughed. "You really are stupid aren't you? I've met Bruce Wayne and his adopted sons, you aren't one of them. And I highly doubt he'd take in a boy named Jonathan Crane. The man may be a player, but he's smarter than that."

We sat in silence and I felt triumph. I had won, I always won. He ignored me again as I bit into my sandwich, leftovers from my day with Mama. Idiot. He may have been smart, but he clearly didn't know to not get in an argument with me. He got up with a murky looking liquid in a test tube. I swore it moved as if it was alive. He dumped it into the still steaming coffee on the teacher's desk, before disposing of the test tube.

"You never answered my question from last period," he said. "I will reiterate in case your hair bleach has sunk into your brain. Do you know what immortality serum is?"

"The real Jonathan Crane's latest weapon-of-the-day," I answered, before registering his insult. "This is all natural, you inbred!"

The bell rang for lunch and I still didn't back down. After he made a move to leave, I gathered my things and walked over to my desk. Unfortunately, Mr Crane followed. I slammed my hand down on my desk, palm splayed out over the blade of my knife.

"This is my desk. Also my class," I defended.

He sat down, again. I should just stab him right now. "You know Lucinda, I heard that you are the top student in this class. Well, you were, until I entered this class."

That's it. I envisioned myself just taking the knife and slashing the corners of his lips open, blood staining his teeth a bright red, him in the fetal position on the floor, his blood staining the the tile and seeping into the cracks. Just the thought made me a little giddy, I was doing my best to keep a straight face. I wanted to do it, my hand was already on the knife already. Just a quick slash and...

"Ms Quinzel sit down!" The teacher shouted, snapping me out of my morbid fantasy.

I complied, slipping the knife into my pocket. Jonathan just smirked, but did scowl as a boy slid into the seat in front of us. I didn't blame him.

Damian Wayne, the only biological child of Bruce Wayne, or so I'm told. The boy was a demon wrapped in Armani shirts with two older brothers to deal with any dissenters of the Wayne clan. He wasn't even a senior, he was a freshman and had already worked his way into most of my classes. He hung out with a strange group and they all looked like they didn't have anything in common. First was Stephanie Brown: a track star, social butterfly and actually pretty fun if you bypassed the way she talks. Then came Cassandra Cain, another one of Bruce Wayne's children, who didn't talk, at all. And finally was Tim Drake. The kid was terrified of me, and I wasn't really sure why, I hadn't done anything to him yet. They stuck together, apart from everyone else. Also they were all picked up by either one of Damian's older brothers, Dick or Jason. Both were intimidating, but at least Dick had a sense of humor. Jason usually refused to talk to me at the odd Wayne family party my aunt and uncle were invited to, and when he did he always had to clench his teeth. Nutter.

Demon Boy turned around, glancing at me and then Jonathan. "Criminal; imposter." He greeted respectively. How cheery.

"Devil."

"Brother," I heard Jonathan say. I started to suspect every one in the school except for me was in on the "let's make the loon believe that Jonathan lives with the Waynes" ruse.

The teacher gave us our lab assignment, it was to create a non-toxic chemical reaction happen as quickly as possible. The teacher didn't seem to care much today as she just took a sip of her coffee and walked around the room. I kept an eye on her, wondering what the now contaminated coffee would do to her. I reached for the crucible to burn something, but Jonathan placed a hand on mine.

"Wait for it," he fixed his gaze over at the teacher. "Three, two-"

"One" was cut off by a shriek of the teacher as she dropped to the ground, convulsing. Students mobbed her, a few of the more squeamish threw up, while Damian, Jonathan, and I were in the back. I stood up on a desk to get a better look. I could see foam and something strange happening with her face. The teacher's mouth was opened in a silent scream, but her skin seemed to be pulling back and then plumping up. Her chest was a bit more perky, and pounds seemed to just shed off her body. She had effectively been reduced to a teenager and a very pretty one at that.

I sat down in my table. Huh. Well that happened. Jonathan yanked me down by my collar. Nutter. "So now you know what immortality serum does. Do you want to rethink your statement about me not being the Scarecrow?"

I shook my head, too busy laughing to even form words. He had done it. And he wasn't a pile of Jonathan Crane flavored goo in an unspecified back alley. I laughed at the absurdity, at the minuscule probability of this ever working. Also the fact that one of the most feared villains in Gotham was now a dorky looking teenager! He looked at me like I was insane, and maybe I was for that moment in time, but it was all. Just. Too. Funny!

"You did this," Damian snarled, literally leaping across a desk to strangle Jonathan. I stopped my giggling, realizing we had an audience.

"Back off demon spawn," I spat, trying to pull the two apart.

And that's when the principal, security guards, and EMTs burst in. Their faces were the picture-perfect version of shock as they took in the complete chaos of the scene. And I couldn't help but laugh, breaking the very awkward silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: So I haven't updated in a forever and a day, but here! I think you guys will actually like** **this chapter, even though there's no Batfamily or Crane. Its one of my favorite chapters I've written so far and I hope you all think the same. Thanks to everyone who stuck around and to everyone that is new. Please review to let me know what you think. Happy reading!**

Chapter 6

They had destroyed the flat. Her babies were currently hiding somewhere downstairs, with the goons. No one dared to come up to investigate what was going on, they all knew that this altercation was one that was best left to blow over. Harley currently had a gun to her Mr J's head while he held a match next to an open fuse of a bomb.

A typical Friday, really.

"Don't lie to me Harleen, I saw you yesterday. With the girl," Joker snarled, only causing Harley to unlock the safety on her gun.

"You aren't suppose'ta know about her!" She could pull the trigger. Anything to keep her baby safe. Even her own death.

Me J let out one of his darker laughs, the one where he seems to be choking on air. "You thought you could hide her from me?! Really Harls, you know better! Now whose is she? Cobblepot's? Freeze's?"

Harley lowered the gun, more hurt than anything. "Puddin'... You thought I cheated on you?"

"You left for a year!" He seemed to be broken. Like he actually felt something. That's what scared Harley the most as Joker didn't know what to do with feelings.

The clown prince of crime began to pace, match left smoldering on the counter. "Oh it's Nygma's isn't it?! That conniving little bastard." He paused to laugh. "Oh when he finds one of his own riddle boxes turned on him. Solve that, Riddle Man!"

"PUDDIN'!" Harley shouted, she had enough of her lover's stark ravings. The fact that he thought that she would cheat was just too much. "She's not anyone's..."

The Joker froze in place, arms outstretched in a way that might have been comical. The same comical way when Bud and Lou mauled someone. The harlequin could see tense veins in his forehead, daring to break his paper colored skin.

Very quietly, she chose her next words carefully. "She's yours. Ours. I left because I was pregnant with her, our-your work was too important to have a baby."

Harley watched Mr J's face for any notion of ill will. She already had a plan forming as one delicate hand wrapped around the hilt of a gun in her waistband. As much as it would hurt, she would have to kill Puddin' if he decided that Lucy had to go. Then maybe escape to Central City, there was a good science lab there that she would appreciate. But first, the goons, the guns, and Mr J had to go if he reacted badly.

At first, there wasn't much emotion. And then he began to laugh. He laughed so long it seemed the man couldn't even breathe anymore. And then, when tears were streaming out of his eyes, he spoke.

"Mine! She's mine!" He wiped one side of his face. "Well Harls, what are we waiting here for? I've got a daughter to meet."

•••

We were kept late in the principal's office, with him yelling about our "distasteful behavior" and our "horrible conduct". Surprisingly, he did not mention any of us being supervillains, age regressed or not. We were kept an hour after school ended, but only after our dear principal had noticed that we weren't paying attention.

Jonathan and Damien were picked up by Jason Todd, who proceeded to (unsuccessfully) high five the former delinquent and reprimand the latter punk. The man just gave me a cold glare, to which I ignored in the form of completing a back hand walkover.

After the Wayne gaggle had left, I checked my phone for the time. Five thirty...

I decided to catch the bus. Despite coming from a rich family and having my driver's license, I still did not own any form of transportation. It was probably due to my behavioral issues. Or the fact that my aunt might be a little psychotic. Most likely the latter.

City buses always smelled like old shoes and stale bread. Cracked leather seats only reinforced the notion that Gotham was possibly the worst city in America. And the people were just another point of interest. Everyone looked like they could mug you at any moment and I wouldn't put it past a good 3/4 of the bus. Once I was certain I saw The Riddler get off a bus I was about to board for school. Needless to say, I was "sick" that particular day.

The two hour bus ride went smoothly, much to my surprise. There weren't any muggings or creepy advances from probable kidnappers. All in all, a strange day. I was let off right in front of the gates to my aunt's community. Hopping the fence was a simple task, it would have been easier if the guard was asleep like he usually was. But no matter, it was like an extra challenge.

The one thing I enjoyed about living in a gated community is the walks from the gate. The lights of Gotham are far enough to where you can see the stars,but the trees have fairy lights strung throughout the branches. The small lake is picturesque, surrounded by a green park. The lone boathouse is something out of a TV show, with rowboats tied to the docks, bobbing in time with the waves. Absolutely gorgeous, it made the walk home almost worth it.

When I arrived at the house, a motorcycle was parked outside. I eyes it warily as neither my aunt nor my uncle were subject to know anyone that interesting. Maybe it belonged to a board member's child? Thinking nothing of it, I walked up to the front door. Another surprise, it was unlocked. As a precaution, I opened my pocket knife and held it in front of me. A heavier weapon would be inside, had something terrible happened.

"Aunt Marilyn?" I called.

"In here," she replied, her voice strained, but otherwise alright.

My knife was kept out as a safety measure but I was thankful that there wasn't a burglary. Explaining to the police how the burglars got several highly reactive and highly illegal bombs would be a trip into the city I didn't want.

I walked into the kitchen, setting my bag on a barstool. "You probably got a call from the school..."

"Yes I did," a fake smile was fighting to stay in place on Aunt Marilyn's face. But her eyes weren't filled with anger, rather she looked more terrified.

Perplexed I turned to Uncle George, who was sweating like a pig. He greeted me with another nervous smile. "Lucinda, why don't you greet our guests? They're in the dining room."

"Alright..." I replied, making my way to the said room.

The red walled room was only used for special guests. A grand oak table spanned most of the room, but I only saw two seats-the head and one to the side- being occupied. One was by a very pale man with a shock of brown hair that had to be dyed. The other was-

"Mama?" I whispered. It was Visitation Day but she was here.

Hearing me, she got up and enveloped me in a hug. She smelled strangely, of smoke and her usual flower perfume. But she was still here and real. And not leaving.

"Hi baby," she said, breaking the hug.

"You said you were leaving?" I asked.

Mama waved a dismissive hand. "Things happen, people go places..."

Mama kept on explaining but I zoned out as the pale man stood up. He dwarfed Mama and by extent, was practically a giant compared to my height. His face was unnaturally long and there was something odd about the corners of his mouth, how occasionally they wanted to twitch up. A glance at his eyes showed that his irises and pupils were unnaturally small, a side effect of prolonged exposure to Joker Venom. He stared directly back at me as if he couldn't believe I was real.

"Oh! Baby, you'll be so excited," Mama stopped mid sentence.

She crossed from me to the pale man, hands fluttering around his chest. "This is your father."

"Hello Lucinda," he said calmly, but his voice, it was exactly like the Joker's.

* * *

 **Did you all enjoy it? ;D Joker's more human looking version is based off the looks of Mr Border from the New 52's Batman: Endgame comic!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I feel bad about how long I made you guys wait for the last chapter, so have a new one! Also cliffhanger and Lucy's a little bit insane. Well actually, a lot insane. Let me know what you think and comments, compliments, critiques or questions. Thank you to everyone who's ever followed or reviewed. And of course, happy reading!**

Chapter 7

Lucy's eyes were wild, jumping between Harley and Mr J. "You're a- you're the Joker! Mama did you know this?!"

Harley had never underestimated her daughter's brains, but this was uncanny. A quick glance at the Joker betrayed the little ticks that only Harley knew. He was going to snap soon. Just being normal in front of her sister had already been enough for him, oh why didn't Harley just nab Lucy from school?

She grabbed on to her lover's hand, letting him squeeze however tight he needed. She felt her bones constricting. "Baby, Ah think you're misunderstandin'-" Damn, her accent came out.

Lucy spun wildly towards Harley, picking up on this fact. "You're the insane clown lady. You shot that cameraman just two days ago."

Her daughter fumbled for her knife, eventually flicking it open. "Don't get near me! You're bad! You're terrible people..."

Mr J laughed, Harley could tell that the makeup around his hands was peeling as well. "Too kind, darling. Takes after her old man, eh Harls?"

"Mama..." Lucy had tears in her eyes as Marilyn and George ran into the room.

George had a shotgun brandished, Marilyn with the biggest knife in the block. Again, Harley's free hand wrapped around the gun in her waistband. She hoped it wouldn't come to pass, but her sister had to go if she interfered too much. But that would just make explaining things that much harder to Lucy.

George pumped the barrel, aiming at her Puddin's chest. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now."

"They're my parents... They're my parents," Lucy muttered before turning on her aunt and uncle. "And you! You didn't tell me! You didn't tell me anything."

Lucy's eyes were wild, a sight Harley knew all too well. One she's seen reflected in the Joker and again in the mirror. Her baby was meant for great things, being like them wasn't on that list.

"Of course they didn't!" Joker shouted, laughing between words. "Doesn't it just make you writhe, doesn't it make you angry?"

"Not helping," she muttered, her eyes constant trained on her daughter.

"No, yes, shut up!" Lucy shouted. "I don't know!"

"Lucinda, this is ridiculous!" Marilyn snapped, reaching for the girl, whose mouth was open in a silent scream.

Harley lunged at the same time, causing the teenager to fall and stumble. In slow motion, Harley watched Lucy trip and knock her back against the table, drawing the hand with the knife back against her cheek. There was a ripping sound and suddenly red was blossoming down her face. Lucy's cheek was split in two, curving up towards her cheekbone.

"You did this," Harley snarled.

In a fit of rage, Harley drew her gun, aiming and firing directly at her sister's head. A shot resounded, filling the house with the sound of gunfire. George had dropped to the floor, cradling his dead wife's head. Harley stood there, gun hand shaking while Lucy screamed in pain on the floor.

"Make an exit, Harls!" Her Puddin stated, guiding their conjoined hands towards the window.

He broke the brittle glass with a thrown chair, dragging the harlequin behind him towards the motorcycle. The neighbors were already awake and GCPD cars were rolling in. And... Shit. The Batsymbol was already up. The duo sped away from the community, hightailed by two cop cars.

Harley buried her face in Mr J's back, who was strangely quiet for once. She had killed her sister and caused her daughter to hurt herself in the process. The worst part of the night had to be when the clown couple was making their escape, Lucy's screams of pain had turned to mad giggles. The small girl had repeated the answer to her unanswered question earlier that night.

"Of course she knew, why wouldn't she know? Of course she knew..."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Oh my god is it an update? Yes it is! Chapter 8 is finally here. I would have had it up earlier but... Yeah my Gotham fic kinda took over my life. And anyways, Lucy is very heavily medicated in this chapter, which is why she isn't more crazy. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed. Tell me what you think, any comments/questions/reviews you have. Happy reading!**

Chapter 8

Darkness, light. Silence, beeping. Pain, numbness.

I didn't quite understand where I was. My eyelids wouldn't work properly. They wouldn't open when I wanted to, which should have been absurd. I'm clearly in control of my body. Finally, they did open. White walls, a big window, and an empty gurney next to me. A hospital? Slowly my hands crept up to the right side of my face, where all my pain was located. I felt dried blood and were those stitches?!

I fumbled around for anything, my left hand finally resting on a handheld mirror. Slowly I lifted it up to my face, point towards my right cheek. The entire right side of my cheek was split, only being held in place by the stitches. Dried blood had cracked the edges. Every little movement hurt and even thinking about opening my mouth was absurd. I wished they weren't there, but the dark blue stitches contrasted the paleness of my face and the red of the wound.

Setting the mirror down, I noticed I was shaking. Not good. My knees folded towards my chest, I wrapped my arms around them. The previous night (or rather several nights ago, seeing as the stitches weren't bleeding anymore) was documented in freeze frames in my mind.

I was the child of the two most dangerous and psychotic super villains in Gotham. My parents were the anti-Batman. They stood against everything that was good and innocent in the world. They stood against people like Jay and creatures like Felix. I had no idea to react to this. Every time that I tried to make a connection, the thought died in a sizzle. To cope, I tried to compartmentalize.

My parents were Harley Quinn and the Joker. That went into its own little box. The lack of balloons and flowers in my room meant that no one had come to visit me. That I didn't need to box up, I had already known I would be lonely. The handmade card from Jay made me happy however, he had tried (and failed) to draw Felix surrounded by crayon balloons. The last box in my mind was reserved for Aunt Marilyn's death. Killed by my own mother. I wasn't sure what to think, I hated the woman but she had raised me... I began to giggle deputy the pain. The absurdity of everything that had transpired.

A knock was at my hospital door before being opened. Jonathan Crane opened the door, a bouquet of red and purple roses in hand. The irony of the colors amused me. As the door was closing I caught sight of two GCPD officers, Commissioner Gordon himself, and Bruce Wayne. Of course they had placed a detail on me. To them, I'm nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Or possibly bait for a certain criminal clown couple. Either way, it was idiotic of me to believe that they wouldn't be watching me like a hawk.

"Bruce Wayne sends his regards," Jonathan stated, placing the bouquet on the side table.

"You've known me one day, why are you here?" I tried to ask, but it came out as a jumble of sounds with more pain shooting through my cheek.

Fortunately, he got the gist of what I was trying to say. "Honestly, I have no idea. Wayne wanted me to come. I could have declined if I wanted to. I could kill you right now, without anyone noticing. End that despicable man's bloodline right now." He paused. "I'm not killing you out of respect of the friendship I had with your mother."

I nodded. How could I forget that everyone on this side of Central City knew my mother somehow? Including the age regressed man in front of me. It was strange thinking of Jonathan as Dr Crane or even the Scarecrow as I was taught to associate him with. He was simply Jonathan, a brilliant ex-criminal. Despite him threatening to kill me, it felt empty. He wouldn't do it, he wasn't as crazy as he once was. I don't know if that's due to the body or time spent along the Wayne brood.

"Also, your cousin wanted to give you this," he sighed, pulling out a furry lump from a hidden pocket in his jacket.

A happy bark came from the lump, revealing Felix. I took my hyena pup from him, holding the little fluff ball close to my face. He licked the uninjured side of my face. Jonathan looked on in repulsion. It was clear he had never owned a pet before. Felix crawled into my lap, curling into a ball. I petted his head, scratching right behind his left ear.

"Thank you," I said, those two words coming out clear as day.

The former criminal just nodded, walking towards the door. "Heal quickly, Ms Quinzel," he said before walking out.

I nodded, burrowing deeper under the blankets. The hospital room was too cold, too white. I needed color to thrive. I felt like my personality was being stifled under all this sterile harshness. Quickly, I grabbed the bouquet, holding on to the one source of color in this dull room. I was being drowned in a sea of dull, I needed color like plants need water. I simply ducked under the covers, tracing the petals of the darkest purple rose in the bunch.

•••

He had really tried not to look at Lucy's stitches. It was tempting, harder than it should have been. She looked so much like her wretched father, with that permanent red smile. But the other side of her face was just like Harleen's. Perfect, innocent, and gorgeous. Anyone who had seen the harlequin with her cowl off would know how breathtaking she was. And Lucy was twice that, without the harsh lines of age or the unforgiving cage of insanity. Strange, yes, but not insane. At least not yet.

As Jonathan stepped out of the hospital room, both security guards eyed him suspiciously. Not everyone knew about his less than clean past, but anyone could tell about the drug use from his irises. Even though the drug that caused the blending of his Iris and sclera was actually the one he didn't have to go through a withdrawal for. The other ones... Well that was a very bad day in Jonathan's life. Goddamn drugs and their goddamm side effects.

Bruce Wayne led the way out of the hospital, gaining stares from the many patients. Jonathan assumed that once they got back to the manor, he would make a considerable donation to hospital. Jonathan ran his hand along the wall. Before, he had placed fear gas capsules in all the air ducts. That was a fun time, ironic to the extreme as well.

It was hard for Jonathan to think of the man standing beside him as "Bruce". Before, the man was simply a fairytale, something that really shouldn't have been worried about. Then he was the Batman, or the Dark Knight as Jonathan's goons had preferred to call him. Even then, the man in the public eye was Bruce Wayne, both first and surname said in awe. The man behind the mask. Jonathan wondered how much his fellow rogues would pay for this information. Millions of dollars, maybe even a few extremities as well. You could never know with Gothamites.

Alfred picked them up as usual. Climbing into the limo, Jonathan never really would get used to the luxury being an adopted Wayne child- even though he clearly wasn't a child, just age-regressed- afforded them. His childhood had been spent wondering if dinner was a possibility, not even caring what it was. That was ages ago, but things hadn't changed much in his neighborhood.

"You care for her, don't you, Crane?" Wayne asked. "She's over twenty years your junior..."

"You don't think I don't know that?" Jonathan snapped. "I'm doing it out of respect for Harleen. I was the only one she told when she was pregnant. Not even Isley knew."

Wayne smiled. "I was just saying, be careful. Her father is the Joker. But thank you, for that bit of information."

"How could I forget that?" Jonathan muttered, pointedly staring out the window and signaling an end to the conversation.


End file.
